


One Good Turn

by minijhi



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Assault, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Kuroo and Kenma are like friendly pet kittens, M/M, Mild Language, Quarter-Life Crisises, Violence, also lots of sleeping and waking up, but there's crying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-11
Updated: 2014-07-12
Packaged: 2018-02-08 09:45:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1936227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/minijhi/pseuds/minijhi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Tsukishima takes home a stray cat and Kozume Kenma, and Kuroo proceeds to be all domestic.</p><p>Please read tags and notes for warnings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Was going to write a short KuroKen with Tsukishima as a minor character, and then got distracted by this plot and it became longer and he grew into the central role and now I'm also in love with Kuroo/Kenma/Tsukishima.
> 
> .
> 
> EDIT: For the first couple of years in the life of this fic, there were allusions to attempted non-con, which I have since removed from the story. They were unnecessary to the story itself, and removing them simply meant taking out one or two sentences in the entire work. There's still a fair bit of unexplained violence as a plot device, but I accept that this is an older story and hope to have grown since then. In the meantime, thank you to everyone who has read and supported this, and new readers, even now, who continue to send love and kudos my way.

“Damn rain.”  Kuroo mutters to himself as he trudges through the downpour searching for his missing best friend.  Kenma has many exasperating quirks, but Kuroo finds the one where he frequently got lost to be by far the most frustrating. They're in a completely new town, being _tourists_ , and Kenma just has gone and gotten himself lost. Again.

 He bypasses an alleyway, and hears a quiet yelp of pain.  Frowning, Kuroo turns to look and focuses on the source of the noise just as a large, beefy man backhands Kenma across the face and sends him sprawling against a box of crates.

 Kuroo sees red.  The group of men surrounding Kenma have a clear advantage to the boy, not just in numbers but also in size.  Kenma’s small frame is like a twig in comparison to theirs.

 "Hey!” Kuroo shouts angrily. Shoving his way through them, Kuroo grabs the shoulder of the man who’d punched Kenma.  The man turns, and Kuroo slams him against the wall, throwing a hard punch to his face.  “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

Kuroo looks like a fighter, and despite his pacifist nature, he can throw a punch when he wants to.  The second punch leaves the guy on his knees, reeling from the blow.  Before the other three can react, Kuroo grabs Kenma by the hand and runs.

They make it as far as the next street before someone delivers a hard blow to the back of Kuroo’s head.  The captain goes down, angling his body so that he breaks the fall and Kenma lands on top of him.  His vision blurs, and he feels Kenma’s small hands shaking his shoulders.

“Kuroo.” Kenma pleads.  “Get up.”

“Run.” Kuroo says, pushing Kenma away from him.  “Go, Kenma. Run.”

The boy glances behind him, and Kuroo forces himself to sit up. “I’m fine, Kenma. Go!”

He wills himself to his feet, and shoves Kenma the other direction. Two of the men from the alleyway are standing in front of him, one being the guy he’d punched. The guy who’d hit Kenma. Kuroo’s lips narrow into a snarl, and he attacks.

Kuroo hopes that the patter of running footsteps he hears are Kenma’s.

 

-

 

Kuroo’s going to kill him, Kenma thinks as he sprints through the deserted streets, the men still following close behind.  Kenma gets away slacking on many things, but he still has the stamina of an athlete, and he can hear the men cursing as they continue to pursue him in the rain. A quick glance back earlier had shown all four men to be still in pursuit, which in a way was a relief, because it meant none of them had stayed back to deal with Kuroo.

 _Why do you even want me?_ Kenma wonders.  Surely I’m not worth the effort.

He catches sight of a black cat streaking past his path and despite not being superstitious, he can’t help but watch it go.  That is his downfall.  Eyes off the road, if only for two seconds.

He doesn’t see the low hanging metal sign.  Kenma barely notices _hanging things_ , because he’s _short_ and he knows it and he’s never had to worry about hitting his head on one of them before.  But of all times, this has to be the one time that he does hit one, and he’s sure he hears the loud ‘clang’ it makes as his head collides with the metal. 

The force knocks him to the ground, and Kenma’s world is spinning. There’s a blurry shape, and Kenma makes it out as the outline of a fuzzy orange cat.  It stalks the fence it is on and watches Kenma. Kenma watches it back, until there is a shout of triumph. 

 _The men,_ Kenma thinks with alarm.  But he can’t see properly, much less get up and run, and his eyes are stinging from the pain and it’s cold and it hurts and the men are on him, hands on his jacket, hands searching.  He slams his elbow into the gravel of the road as he fights them, and his whole arm goes numb.

In the end, he gives up fighting and just lies there in the rain.  The cat moves closer, predatory, and Kenma blinks at it. He’s still watching the orange cat when it pounces.

The last thing he hears is shouting.  He tries to focus on the shapes in front of him, until someone kicks him in the head and everything goes blank.

 

-

 

 _Dratted weather,_ Tsukishima thinks, trudging through the rain, his umbrella doing little to shield him from the bad weather.  Tsukishima half-wishes he’d just hung around in the library or somewhere to wait it out. 

It’s a horrible day, Tsukishima admits to himself.  At least though, it’s Friday, and opting out of volleyball practice means that he has the whole weekend to himself to brood.  He clenches his jaw as he thinks about the look on Hinata’s face when he’d walked right past them on his way back, not even bothering to acknowledge the shorter player.  Tsukishima can’t deny that he’s downright unpleasant when he’s thinking deeply about something—more often than not volleyball—but he can’t help it.

His shoes squelch uncomfortably beneath his feet, and he suppresses the urge to sigh.  As he makes his way past a corner, there’s a mewling noise, and a soaking wet cat taking shelter under a leaf growls at him.

 _What?_   Tsukishima’s so surprised that he actually stops mid-step to stare at the cat.  There are plenty of better places for a cat to hide from the rain.  The leaf might as well be nonexistent, for all the good it is doing.

His eyes trail around the area, and suddenly he spots an abandoned red jacket, draped across a road divider.  Tsukishima wants to ignore it and go home, but it looks oddly familiar and despite his brain whining at him to get home already, he takes a few steps forward.

Before he can reach the jacket, he sees a figure, an actual person, lying on the ground.  He’s curled up to one side with his back turned, but Tsukishima’s brain connects the dots. A red jacket.  A boy with blonde hair and black roots. His eyes glance back at the cat, and it all clicks.

A brief moment of panic overwhelms Tsukishima.  It’s that setter from Nekoma, the one with the genius observation skills.  What is he doing here?  Why is he in Miyagi, and why is he out here, alone?

Tsukishima’s legs move on his own, and the umbrella falls to the side as he realizes that this was no mindless stroll the boy had taken and fallen asleep in. There are bruises up and down the setter’s skin, and his T-shirt is torn at the collar.  His thin T-shirt, far too thin for the weather, provides no protection against the pounding of the rain.

 _Shit._   Tsukishima drops into a crouch, turning the boy onto his back.  His body gives no resistance, and Tsukishima leans closer just as the cat from under the leaf flies at him, claws outstretched. Tsukishima throws up his hands to protect himself just in time, and gets a bunch of long scratches down his arms for his effort.

“What the—”  Tsukishima nearly flattens Kenma as he tries to escape the sharp claws of the cat, but forces his body the other way at the last moment, leaving the setter clear of any further injury.  The cat stops coming after him, but circles the body on the road, almost possessively.

Tsukishima’s eyes go from the cat to the boy and back again, and his eyes widen as he understands what is happening.  The cat is protecting Kenma.  _Unbelievable,_ Tsukishima thinks. But the boy needs help, more than a protective cat can provide right now.

“Um.” Tsukishima takes a few steps back towards them, and the cat growls at him.  Yamaguchi is going to laugh if he hears about this. Tsukishima, standing in the pouring rain trying to reason with a cat.  Holding his hands out, he stops right in front of the cat and crouches down.  “Listen. I’m not going to hurt him. He needs help, I’m going to help him.”

The cat remains largely unimpressed, but they are both distracted by a soft moan as Kenma stirs.  He tries to sit up and winces, catching his weight on his palms before he can fall back over. The small noise of pain he emits sits badly with Tsukishima.

“Kenma.” The cat-eyes widen as the boy recognizes Tsukishima.  His eyes are unfocused, but at least he’s awake and lucid.

“I’d go over to help you, but your cat is…”  Tsukishima gestures to the cat, who seems calmer now that Kenma is awake.  Tsukishima’s still not taking any chances though.

Kenma gazes steadily at the cat, his expression still unreadable. “That’s not my cat.” Kenma says, but beckons to the animal lightly with two fingers.  The cat slips under his hand, letting Kenma pat its wet fur.

Tsukishima closes the gap and kneels down beside the boy. Tsukishima studies the him, and Kenma’s eyes meet his for a moment before they flutter shut, and he’s on the brink of passing out again. 

Reaching for his umbrella, Tsukishima closes it.  They’re both soaking wet already.  There’s no point having to worry about the umbrella too. Stuffing it into his bag, he asks, “I’m assuming you’re here with your team?  Where are you guys staying?”

There is no reply.  Kenma has curled back up on the street and slipped into unconsciousness.

“Hey.” Tsukishima shakes the boy lightly, but he doesn’t stir.  It’s then Tsukishima sees the small wound on the side of Kenma’s head. It’s not serious, and should heal on its own in a couple of days, but with everything combined, Tsukishima is worried.  The blond hair is tinged red.

With a sigh, Tsukishima eyes Kenma.  He’s small, small enough to be carried.  If he had to be. Tsukishima scoops the setter up in his arms, and slowly stands.  His head nearly knocks into a low hanging sign, and he glares at it.

The cat mewls, and Tsukishima turns to see the red jacket still draped over the fence.  Kenma would probably want it later.

Tsukishima eyes the cat.  “I don’t suppose you’ll help me get that?”  he asks.

A minute later, Tsukishima is walking down the street, carrying a limp body in his arms.  Beside him trots an orange cat with a red jacket hanging across its body. Most of the jacket is dragging on the ground, but Tsukishima supposes it’ll have to do.

Yamaguchi is going to laugh, indeed.

 

-

 

It’s late.

It’s been four hours since they’ve lost Kenma, and Kuroo is standing at the edge of town, clenching and unclenching his fist.  They’ve combed the whole downtown and some of the surrounding area numerous times, but they’ve yet to find Kenma and the boy hasn’t contacted them either.

“Kuroo.” Someone touches his arm, and he looks down at Yaku’s concerned face.  “It’s dark.  We should get some rest.  We’ve searched everywhere.”

Kuroo lets out a long breath and runs his hand across his face. “Yaku,”  he says, in a low, desperate voice, “I need to find him.”

“You will.  We will. Kuroo, we’ll find him.”

Kuroo nods, fear settling in his stomach.  He replays the last time he saw Kenma, over and over again in his head.  He cannot bring himself to imagine what might have happened to the boy.

There is a soft pressure on the back of Kuroo’s arm, gently steering him back to where they came.  “Come on. Let’s get something to eat.”

It feels like betraying Kenma when Kuroo stops looking, but he forces himself to anyway.  He’s looked everywhere he could think of, and talked to half the population of the town, but no one has seen the boy.  Kuroo doesn’t know what else he can do.

Inuoka and Yamamoto quietly pick a restaurant, a simple cafe where they can get a quick bite before going back to their rooms.  The team is unusually silent, and he doesn’t think Yamamoto utters a single word. 

Truth be told, if anyone did speak, Kuroo, too lost in his own thoughts, doesn’t hear them.

 _Kenma._   Kuroo thinks, staring out into the pouring rain. _Where are you?_

 

-

 

Tsukishima paces back and forth in his bedroom.  He hasn’t let anyone else up here in ages, and it’s strange, having a boy he barely knows fast asleep in his bed.

His parents are away for the week, and Tsukishima thinks he’s mostly grateful for that.  No one had been around to see him come home, soaking from head to toe with a wet bundle of a boy in his arms.

The setter is small, but even so, Tsukishima has a field day trying to work out what to do with him.  Tsukishima finally decides on leaving the smaller boy sitting under the hot shower, fully clothed, while he rummages around his bedroom for something Kenma can wear.

At long last, they’re both in dry clothes again, although Kenma’s hair is dripping water all over the t-shirt Tsukishima has put him in.  Tsukishima pats his hair down awkwardly with a towel, mindfully avoiding the wound, and then lays Kenma down in his bed, tucking the blankets over him.  The boy’s skin is still cold to touch, and Tsukishima rests his warm skin against the boy’s cool one much longer than he ever would if Kenma was awake.

“What happened to you?”  Tsukishima muses quietly.  “Where is your team?”

Tsukishima had found the boy’s cellphone in his back pocket, soaked through and not turning on.  He put it by the windowsill, above the heater, hoping it would dry in time. In the meantime, he had to find another way to contact Nekoma’s team.

Against his will and after ten minutes of refusal to, Tsukishima calls Daichi.

Daichi is surprised, but he doesn't voice it.  Instead, he asks, “What’s up?”

“I was wondering if you have the phone number of the captain of Nekoma.” Tsukishima says.

Daichi is quiet for so long that Tsukishima thinks he must have surprised his captain into a faint.  “Kuroo Tetsurou?”  Daichi asks. “That Nekoma captain?”

There’s something in Daichi’s tone that tells Tsukishima his captain is thinking about the practices he’s had with Kuroo, and wondering if this has anything to do with that.  Daichi doesn’t ask, and Tsukishima doesn’t offer.

“I’m sorry, I don’t.  Perhaps you should call Hinata.  He has Kenma, the setter’s, number.  I’m sure Kenma can give you Kuroo’s.”

“Okay.  Thank you.”  Tsukishima doesn’t bother to tell him that he’s been no help at all.

Daichi senses it though, and offers another suggestion.  “You could try Tanaka?  He’s friends with the ace, isn’t he?  He might have Yamamoto’s number.  And then you could get to Kuroo.”

That’s too many if’s and phone calls with people he’d rather not talk to even on a normal day. Tsukishima figures he’ll just wait for Kenma to wake up.

“Tsukishima, I hope you’re coming back soon.”  Daichi says.

Tsukishima doesn’t have anything to say to that, so he doesn't say anything. He hangs up.

Rain is still pouring outside, raindrops pattering against the glass. Inside the room, it is dark.

Tsukishima slumps to the floor and buries his face in his hands.

 

-

 

It is nine p.m. and there’s a boy passed out in his bed and Tsukishima is making them both dinner.

The boy doesn’t wake.

Tsukishima eats alone, perched at his desk, watching the boy sleep. The rain stops, gradually. The room is warm, so is Kenma.

Tsukishima falls asleep at his desk, waiting.

 

-

 

The lamp on the bedside table reads ten-fifty.  Kenma has no idea where he is and why everything is so fuzzy.  There is the sound of someone moving around, far, far away.  Footsteps.

Kenma closes his eyes again.  His head hurts.  He’s very dizzy.

The room is warm, so is Kenma.

He falls back asleep within seconds, but the confusion never fades.

 

-

 

Kuroo wakes up in complete darkness to his phone ringing.  He reaches for it quickly, before it wakes anyone else up, and then he looks at the adjacent bed and remembers that he’s alone in the room tonight.

"Kuroo?” the voice asks, hesitantly.

“Speaking.” Kuroo says.  He massages his temple, trying to squint at the time on the bedside clock.  The pain from the blow he’d received earlier that evening had faded, but the throbbing was still insistent.  “Who is this?”

“Tsukishima Kei.”  The voice says. It’s more familiar now, as is the name, but between exhaustion and sleep he still takes awhile to place it.

“Tsukishima… as in Karasuno?” he finally asks in disbelief. As far as he knew, Tsukishima wasn’t the type to call anyone at any time, much less the captain of his opponent’s team at … five in the morning. 

Before he can leap to any far-fetched conclusions, Tsukishima says in a quiet voice, “I have Kenma with me.”

Kuroo’s first reaction is complete bewilderment.  “What do you want with him?”

“What?”

A beat passes and Kuroo immediately feels ridiculous.  There was no way Karasuno has kidnapped Kenma. There’s a more logical reasoning to this.  “Where is Kenma?” Kuroo asks.

“At my place.  I found him at the side of the road on my way back from school.  Did you…lose him?”

Kuroo stiffens.  Tsukishima says the word ‘lose’ as though it is a synonym for something less pleasant, more forceful, more malicious.  He says the word ‘lose’ with the entire weight of losing an official match, or losing a loved one.

Kuroo’s blood runs cold.  “Is he okay?”

“He’s running a high fever.  He’s been conscious for only minutes at a time, so I haven’t managed to talk to him about what’s happened, but he was up long enough to give me your number awhile ago.”

Kuroo loses all strength in his legs and sinks back onto his bed. “What did they do to him?” he asks.

“…don’t worry about it.”  Tsukishima says.  “He’s fine. I’m watching over the fever, and I’ll bring him over tomor- later.  I just wanted to let you know he’s with me. 

Kuroo pictures Kenma in an unfamiliar room, with someone he barely knows. Kenma’s lousy at being sick, he’s miserable and clingy and even quieter than usual.  

“Can I come over?”  Kuroo asks.

There is a slight hesitation on the other end.  “It’s five in the morning.”  Tsukishima says.   “He’s asleep.”

“Please.” Kuroo says.  “I just need to see him.”

The silence stretches on, woven into the own silence of Kuroo’s hotel room. Kuroo presses his face into the bedframe, closing his eyes.

“Okay.”  Tsukishima says.

 

-

 

It is five in the morning and Kuroo’s lost Kenma but the coldest member of the Karasuno team has found him.

He sends a message to the team’s group chat before heading out.

_Found Kenma.  Heading over to see him now.  Will call with more info later._

The trains have yet to start running, and so Kuroo walks.  He alternates between walking, jogging and sprinting. In the chilly, damp morning air, the roads are all empty, and Kuroo has never felt more alone.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

 

As Tsukishima waits by his front door at five in the morning for Kuroo, he thinks he deserves a ‘most number of unlikely things done in a day’ award.  A little over twelve hours ago he’d just been walking home from school like any other day.  And now—

God, he’d asked for a break from Karasuno so he could get some rest and time alone, not so he could get involved with another team. 

He hears the pounding of footsteps on concrete a few seconds before Kuroo pulls up in the driveway, breathing heavily.  Tsukishima looks at him, taken aback. 

“I just had to see him.” Kuroo repeats his words from earlier that morning.  “Is he… can I…?”

Sometimes the things people do for their games and their teammates astounds Tsukishima. 

The orange cat from earlier slinks past Kuroo, eyeing him with distrust.  Tsukishima rolls his eyes at the cat and shuts it out of the house. He steps deeper into the house so Kuroo can follow him in, and leads the captain up to his bedroom.

Kenma’s awake when they enter, but Kuroo doesn’t count on him being up for long.  The boy looks towards them as their dark shadows enter the room, and before he can blink, Kuroo’s wrapped the boy in a tight hug.

“Kenma.”  Kuroo whispers, his voice giving slightly. He holds Kenma out in front of him, trying to see him better in the moonlight, and Kenma winces slightly.

“Careful.” Tsukishima warns. Before he knows what he’s doing, he takes the blond boy out of Kuroo’s grip and lays him back down. The boy watches Kuroo wordlessly, then drifts off again.

To Kuroo, Tsukishima explains, “He hurt his arms.”

Through the light of his cellphone, the Nekoma captain studies the bruises up and down Kenma’s arms with a wordless, brewing, anger.  Tsukishima is no expert on what other people are feeling, but when Kuroo finally turns his phone back off, even Tsukishima can feel the older boy’s anguish.

“I’m so sorry, Kenma.”  Kuroo says. He kneels by the bed, head bowed over his friend’s body as if in prayer.  His fingers reach out to curl around Kenma’s hand, gentler this time.  The tenderness in the gesture speaks volumes, the air around them thick and heavy. Tsukishima feels a strange compulsion to leave before the feeling overwhelms him.

Sure, Tsukishima had noticed that the setter and the captain were close, even outside of practice, but he’d just passed it off as Kuroo being friendly. It had been Kuroo and Bokuto, after all, who’d called him in for practice night after night at camp, who offered him advice and taught him, regardless of how much he tried to avoid them at first.

This—this was not just friendly.  Tsukishima felt uncomfortable, like he was intruding on something private, and despite his reluctance to leave them in his room, he cleared his throat and murmured quietly, “I’ll go make something to drink.”

Kuroo barely acknowledges his words.  He just rests his forehead against Kenma’s chest, murmuring, “Forgive me.”

Tsukishima closes the door behind him and steps back out into the light.

 

-

 

It is six in the morning and Tsukishima is doing his homework at the dining table.  He reads the same line over and over again for half an hour, until he hears his bedroom door open and close quietly.

It’s several more moments before Kuroo appears, slowly making his way down the stairs.  Kuroo says little, eyes seeing Tsukishima’s house for the first time.  Tsukishima ignores him and pretends to read his essay.

Kuroo eventually pulls out a chair across the table from Tsukishima and sits. He studies Tsukishima’s face, and asks, “Did you stay up all night looking after him?”

 Tsukishima doesn’t look up.  “Not really. I took a nap for awhile.” Half-an-hour.  Tsukishima can’t believe he’s still up, to be honest. He’d never had need for an all-nighter before.

Kuroo taps his fingers on the wooden table, watching Tsukishima idle away at his book.  The boy’s tense posture indicates that he’s not reading, just waiting warily for Kuroo’s next question.

This kid is as bad at being friendly as Kenma, Kuroo thinks to himself. It’s okay.  He finds it endearing. 

He stands up, goes around the table and pulls out the seat right across from Tsukishima.  Then he takes Tsukishima by the shoulders, turning him to face Kuroo.

“Hey.”

The younger boy’s eyes are an unreadable wall.  “What?”  Tsukishima asks, trying to wrestle Kuroo’s hands off him.

“Thank you.” Kuroo says firmly, keeping their eyes locked.

For a moment there is flicker of yearning in those eyes, somewhere locked away at the bottom of a pit. Then Tsukishima blinks and it is gone.

“Yeah.”  Tsukishima says.

 

-

           

“What’s he like?”  Kuroo asks, watching Kenma sleep quietly.  He’s perched at the side of Tsukishima’s bed, gently stroking Kenma’s hair.

“You’ve seen him.”  Tsukishima says.

“He’s piled under what looks like all the blankets in your house.” Kuroo retorts. His words are teasing, but he lets a timbre into it that he’s sure tells Tsukishima how grateful he is for it. How grateful he is for everything.

“His arms.”  Tsukishima says. “You’ve seen those.”

Kuroo resists the urge to take Kenma’s arm again.  He knows looking at the line of bruises on his best friend’s arms is only going to make him feel worse.

“His neck.  Jaw.” Kuroo lightly traces the bruises on both those places.  The bruises on his neck look like fingerprints, but the one on his jaw is wider, larger than a finger.  Kuroo winces at it.

“I’m so sorry.”  Kuroo whispers to the silent, still boy.  He pushes back from the bed, hands shaking.

 

-

 

Kuroo is pacing the hallway outside Tsukishima’s bedroom.  He feels like something is gnawing a hole in his chest.

“I’m going to kill them.”  Kuroo swears.  “I’m going to fucking kill whoever did this.”

Tsukishima stands behind him, poised at the entrance of the door to his bedroom. He neither does nor says anything, but Kuroo knows that when he finds a need to act, he will.

Kuroo is sorry that Tsukishima has to deal with all this, but at the same time, he’s immensely grateful that the boy is there.   Sunlight pulls up over the house, seeping under the blinds of the windows.

Kuroo’s gaze is icy as he stares outside at the brand new day.

It takes a lot to anger him.

But he is angry now.

His fingernails digs into his arms so hard he knows he’ll have matching bruises with Kenma’s tomorrow.  With considerable effort, he unclenches his fists.  He sucks in a deep breath, and lets it go slowly.

There is little he can do now. He needs to focus on the things he can fix.  Kuroo closes his eyes and opens them again.  Then he rests his hand on Tsukishima’s shoulder briefly in wordless thanks, and then slips back into the room.

Tsukishima suddenly feels exhausted.

 

-

 

Tsukishima wakes up in darkness, confused and out of place.  He’s not in his bedroom, although it is familiar. The clock on the bedside table reads five, and Tsukishima blinks, flipping onto his back and trying to recollect himself.  It is raining outside.  He’d walked home in the rain yesterday, and had found Kozume Kenma lying out there—

He sits bolt upright, fumbling for his phone and flicking the screen active. It’s five in the evening. He’d slept much of the day away.

There’s an old volleyball and an almost empty bookshelf to his left. It’s Akiteru’s room, Tsukishima realizes, rubbing a hand against his eyes.  Getting to his feet, he goes out into the corridor, where the lights are glaringly bright for evening.  He’s still disoriented.

Tsukishima pushes his bedroom door open a crack, and sees someone lying in his bed, the illuminated screen of a game console the only light source in the room.

Kenma sits up, his hair tousled.

“Hey.” he says.  He looks at Tsukishima and eventually offers him a small smile.  “Thanks for taking care of me.”

“Oh. You’re welcome.” Tsukishima says.

Kenma flops back down onto Tsukishima’s bed and keeps playing his game.

Awkward even in his own bedroom now, Tsukishima makes a hasty retreat, only to walk straight into Kuroo.

“Kenma, did you thank him?”  Kuroo asks the empty doorway of Tsukishima’s room.

There is an answering noise from Kenma that doesn’t sound much like an affirmative to Tsukishima, but Kuroo looks satisfied.  He pats Tsukishima on the head, ruffling his hair.

Tsukishima scowls, and Kuroo says, “I’m making dinner.  What would you like to eat?”

It’s then that Tsukishima realizes Kuroo’s wearing his mother’s apron. 

           

-

 

Over dinner that night, Kuroo explains to Tsukishima that they had come over to Miyagi for a surprise practice match.  Nekoma was out on holiday for a week, and the coach had suggested they take the trip, staying as long as they wanted.  The only game that they were mandated to play was the game this afternoon, which as Kuroo pointed out, all three of them had missed.

“I’m not on the team anymore.  Not this week, anyway.”  Tsukishima said.

Kuroo’s eyes flicker with surprise.  “Why?”

“I’m thinking.”  Tsukishima reluctantly elaborates.  It sounds stupid to his ears when he says it aloud, even though Tsukishima knows he needs this break.  If he doesn’t stop volleyball, at least for a bit, it will suffocate him.

‘That question again?’  Kuroo’s expression asks.  Kuroo doesn’t say anything though.  Tsukishima takes his plates to the sink, and Kuroo follows close behind. The captain takes Kenma’s plate for him as well, and the boy just sits at the table, tapping away at his game. Somehow Tsukishima gets the feeling that it has nothing to do with the fact Kenma is sick, and everything to do with the fact that the boy is spoiled.

Kuroo nudges him out of the way and takes over washing the dishes. Tsukishima backs off.

“Better not think too much.”  Kuroo tells Tsukishima, up to his elbows in soapy water.  “Just do.  If Kenma stopped to think about why he’s playing volleyball, he’d have quit long ago.”

“I'd never have started.”  Kenma volunteers from the dining table.

Kuroo glances over.  “Kenma, bring the rest of the plates in, will you?”  he calls.

“One more level.”  Kenma says, forehead back on the table.  The beeping noises of the game continue.

“I’ll get it.”  Tsukishima says. He goes back out and stacks up the remaining dishes before bringing them to the sink.  Kuroo wipes a soapy hand on the dishcloth.

“Don’t spoil him.”  Kuroo says. The hypocrisy of that comment isn’t lost on Tsukishima.  He raises an eyebrow at Kuroo, and the captain snorts.

“He grows on you.”  Kuroo says.

 

-

 

The rain is a torrential flood outside after dinner.  Kuroo stands by the door after he’s done with the dishes and looks mournfully out at the storm.  He’d texted the team that they’d be back tonight, but the rain is horrid, and Kuroo doesn’t want Kenma out there again.  Hell, he doesn’t want to be out there himself.

 Someone approaches him cautiously, and Kuroo recognizes the presence as distinctively not-Kenma.  He smiles wryly, fiercely proud of having divided the world into two:  Kenma and not-Kenma.  He knows that, for a large part, that’s how Kenma’s world is divided too.

In any case, Tsukishima is approaching like a timid hulk of a bear, and Kuroo acts casual, continuing to glower at the rain.  Tsukishima is a faulty switch to a heater, one moment he’s channeling warmth and comfort, and the next moment he’s as cold as ice. Kuroo waits patiently.

This turns out to be one of the warm switches.

“You can stay.”  Tsukishima say. “My parents won’t be back until the end of the week.  I wouldn’t go out there tonight, especially not with Kenma still sick.”

Kenma is lying on the couch, probably listening to their every word. He’s got his legs hanging over one end of the couch, and looks every inch as sick as Tsukishima thinks he is. But then again, this is Kenma, and he’s practically motionless even in the middle of a match.  Kenma, in perfect health, still moves like a lazy, predatory snake.  People often mistake it for a weakness.

 “We can stay?”  Kuroo repeats, turning slowly.  He’s confused and touched by the gesture.

Tsukishima shrugs a shoulder.  “If you wanted to.  I’d at least stay tonight.”  He says, and nods his head out the door to the pouring rain.

“I mean, I don’t know when you guys are planning to leave, but I know hotels aren’t really the nicest and Kenma might like—well, it’s quiet here, and, you can stay the week if you want.”  Tsukishima finishes lamely.

Kuroo smiles.

The boy really has no idea what he’s getting himself into.

 

-

 

Tsukishima gets home from school that Monday to an empty house.  The rug in the hallway has been knocked askew, but there’s nothing else that indicates that Kuroo and Kenma were ever there.

His bed has been made, corners all tucked in neatly.  Tsukishima briefly wonders who did it—if the past few day had taught him anything, it’s that it is more of Kuroo-thing to fold beds into perfect little corners, while Kenma sits around supervising over the screen of his handheld game.

He falls onto the bed, resting a hand over his face.  He’s used to being alone, but today feels different. It isn't a good kind of different.  The absence of the two Nekoma players is especially obvious to Tsukishima.  It’s not that they’re loud, necessarily—Nishinoya and Tanaka are loud.  Kuroo and Kenma are just... there.  

Tsukishima sighs. He kicks at the blankets, wanting to just go to sleep and tune out everything.  He can’t deal with this tonight.

The doorbell rings downstairs.  Tsukishima buries his head in his pillow, pulling the covers over his head. 

It’s probably someone door-to-door salesman, a neighbour looking for his mother, or one of the dozens of people it might be, none of whom would be looking for Tsukishima.  He decided to ignore it, even when the bell goes off a second time.

Tsukishima waits in the darkness for the person to go away, but the bell doesn’t stop ringing.

“For God’s sake.”  Tsukishima mutters.  He kicks off the blankets and stands angrily, ruffling his hair back into some of its normal semblance before trudging downstairs.

Forcing his murderous expression away, Tsukishima yanks open the front door. And freezes as Kuroo and Kenma step in the house without invitation, beaming at him. 

“What are you guys doing here?”  he demands.  His eyes stay on the two bags Kuroo has dumped onto the floor.

“You invited us to stay, didn’t you?”  Kuroo asks.  He checks his watch exaggeratedly.  “He said we could stay all week, didn’t he?”  he says to Kenma.

“I think so.”  Kenma says unsurely.

“You’re staying? Here?”  Tsukishima asks.

“Isn’t that what you offered?”  Kuroo countered.

“You’re really hard to understand.”  Kenma tells Tsukishima, as Kuroo hoots with laughter in the background.

“So can we stay?”  Kuroo asks. He doesn't make it sound like a question.  He’s already made his way to the kitchen, trying to see what Tsukishima has made for dinner. He finds nothing, because Tsukishima hadn’t been planning to eat.  He hadn’t been planning to do anything that night.

Tsukishima waves carelessly.  “Go ahead.” He says, trying to keep his voice steady.

Kuroo pauses in the kitchen after opening and closing half of the cupboards, and then comes back out to stand by Kenma again.  “Was that a yes or no?”  he asks Kenma.

“Yes, I think.”  Kenma says. “He said ‘go ahead.’”

“He might have meant “go ahead out of here.”  Kuroo  argues.

Tsukishima glowers at them.  “Go ahead means get in here.  Move your bags out of my hallway.  You’re staying in my bedroom.”

“There, why couldn’t you have just said so the first time?”  Kuroo laughs.  Dodging Tsukishima’s glare, Kuroo just laughs and drags Kenma up the stairs, bags and all.  Tsukishima thanks the fact that they are gone, because he’s smiling like an idiot right now.

Shaking his head, he turns to shut the door again.

A minute later, Kuroo shouts down the stairs, “Tsukishima, you slob! I spent half-an-hour making that bed!”

Tsukishima muffles his laughter in the shirt of his sleeve.

 

-

 

The next few nights, Tsukishima spends more time doing his homework at the dining table than he ever has before.  This has little to do with the fact that Akiteru’s table is too small, and more to do with the fact that his houseguests like to spend time lounging in his living room, reading, watching tv and playing games. Tsukishima tells himself he’s just keeping an eye on them, because Kuroo is prone to acting like he owns the place and exploring every nook and cranny of the house, overturning flowerpots and opening drawers with interest.

In truth, Tsukishima thinks he just likes the company.  He likes the way Kuroo follows him around the house asking probing, tactless questions or making unnecessary comments about Tsukishima’s housekeeping style.  The sound of Kenma’s games drive him crazy at first, but Tsukishima grows to be okay with that too.

Another truth:  he’s fascinated by Kuroo and Kenma’s relationship.  Kenma isn’t the easiest person to get along with, he’s detached and spends most of his time ignoring everyone else in the world.  Yet Kuroo, with his quick smiles and easygoing personality, whose friends probably came in flocks and herds, chose to stick close to the younger boy and practically worshipped him.

Tsukishima wonders.

As he watches them over his homework, Kuroo’s twirling his fingers around Kenma’s hair with obvious affection.  The smaller boy doesn’t even seem to notice.  It seems so natural to the both of them, Tsukishima thinks.

Then he sees Kuroo lean over and kiss Kenma on the forehead.

 _Oh, so it’s like that._ Tsukishima realizes, flushing and abruptly turning away.

“It doesn’t bother you, does it?”  Kuroo asks, and Tsukishima realizes that he’d been caught staring.

“No.” Tsukishima says.  He pushes away from the table, abruptly going over to the kitchen to pour himself a drink.  It doesn’t escape him that his voice is unsteady, and that he just walked away from them in a way that indicates that he is bothered.

Kenma looks up from his game. His eyes meet Tsukishima’s questioningly.

“No.” Tsukishima repeats. “I really don’t mind.”

As he speaks though, he realizes he does mind.  But not in the way most people would think. It’s just that the two of them being together makes Tsukishima feel lonely in a way he hadn’t felt since they’d showed up.  

“You’re welcome to join us, if you’d like.”  Kuroo says lazily.  “Right, Kenma?”

 Kenma shrugs easily.  Tsukishima ends up swallowing his mouthful of juice too fast and choking on it.

“Hell no.”  Tsukishima says.

 

-

 

A door shuts with a click in the distance, and Kenma wakes up with a start from a nightmare that he cannot remember.  The room around him is still dark, but the dull and dusty kind of light that says it’s almost morning, but not just yet. 

Kuroo is lying next to him, one arm draped around Kenma’s shoulder while he sleeps. Kenma closes his eyes, trying to even out his breathing.  The memory of the nightmare has completely vanished now, but the physical effects still remain.  His breathing comes out in tiny gasps, and he’s shivering in the dark.

Carefully, the younger boy wriggles out under Kuroo’s arm and stands. A light rain is pouring outside the window, and Kenma knows that’s why he’d been dreaming about it. It had happened in the rain, after all.

Taking care not to make any sound, Kenma sneaks out into the corridor and into the bathroom.  Kuroo doesn’t stir.

He washes his face and stares at himself in the mirror, suppressing the shudder that runs through his body.  On the outside, he looks the same as ever.  Most of the bruises were fading, but there were still a couple, mainly on his arms, mottled blue-black and yellow.  They look ugly, but they don’t hurt.

Kenma’s chest hurts, though.

He doesn't remember how he got half of the bruises.  Kenma pulls his shirt up slightly, rests his fingers on the skin, and the idea of someone getting that close to him, malicious with intent—

A choked sob escapes his mouth, and quickly blossoms into another before he can stop himself.

“Kenma?” Tsukishima’s concerned voice says through the door.  “Are you okay?”

 _Ah,_ Kenma thinks, trying to stifle his voice.

When he doesn’t reply, Tsukishima just knocks lightly on the door. Kenma can hear him speaking from right outside.  “Kenma?”

Tears are brimming in his eyelids, and Kenma hastily swipes at them with a hand. The action leaves his bruised arm in clear sight in the mirror, and Kenma crumbles.  Before he knows it, he’s crouched into himself on the floor, tears streaming down his face.

The hands had terrified him.  It takes a lot before Kenma can be comfortable with people, with strangers.  Even getting used to Nekoma had taken time, the friendly pats on the back, the high-fives, the accidental jostling.

“I’m going to get Kuroo—“  Tsukishima’s voice says, and then Kenma stands and pulls open the door.

For a moment, Tsukishima just stands there, staring at him. He’s already dressed in his full uniform, holding his bag in one hand.  The bag is abandoned when Tsukishima takes a hesitant step towards Kenma.  Kenma stares back, still feeling the tears stinging at his eyes.  He blinks, and a lone tear tracks down his cheek.

“I thought you’d gone to school.” Kenma says, as if it explains why Kenma is sitting in his bathroom crying.  He wipes the tear away.

Tsukishima just looks at him.

“Do you want me to wake Kuroo up?”  he asks.

Kenma shakes his head jerkily.  “I don’t want him to worry.”

“You know he does, anyway.”

“I don’t—“  coherent speech eludes him then, because Tsukishima holds out his arms.  The weight of the offer doesn’t go unnoticed to Kenma. He knows Tsukishima is about as touchy-feely as Kenma is himself, which is not at all, but here the boy is.  The fact that he leaves the last few inches of space up to Kenma signifies his respect for Kenma’s personal space.

Before he knows it, Kenma closes the distance between them, buries his face in Tsukishima’s shirt, and cries for the first time in a long time.

 

-

 

It’s seven-thirty and Tsukishima is late for class but he’s still sitting at his dining table, watching Kenma drink a cup of warm tea.

“Feeling better?” he asks.

Kenma gives a tiny nod. “I’m sorry.”  he says.  “Thanks.  You should go.”

“Are you sure you don’t want me to wake Kuroo up?”  Tsukishima asks as gets up.

Kenma shakes his head.  “I’ll just go back to bed.”  He tilts his head looking at Tsukishima, and then reaches out to tug at his necktie. “I got your tie wet.”

Tsukishima untwists the tie and lets it hand loosely around his neck. “It doesn’t matter.” he says.  “I missed assembly anyway.  They won’t care what it looks like after.”

For a moment, they both say nothing, studying each other.  It’s funny how _at home_ at home Tsukishima feels. 

“Okay.” Tsukishima says finally. He draws his bag back over his shoulder.  He pauses at the doorway.  “Kenma? You should talk to Kuroo, you know.”

Kenma stiffens.

“Just saying.”  Tsukishima says softly.  “He cares about you.”

Kenma tucks a strand of hair behind his ear and finally turns to face Tsukishima again.  He inclines his head slightly, neither promising nor rejecting the bit of advice. “Have a nice day at school.” Kenma says, in that offhand way of his.

There’s a flicker of a smile on Tsukishima’s face as he leaves the house. Kenma, worn out, washes the cup in the sink and goes back upstairs.

“Kenma?” Kuroo asks briefly as the boy climbs into bed and tucks himself back under Kuroo’s arm.  “You okay?”

‘Yes’ plays on Kenma’s lips, and then he remembers how utterly broken he had felt earlier that morning, and he shivers.  Tsukishima’s voice, in his head, chides him to tell the truth.

“No.” Kenma murmurs, curling into the warmth of Kuroo’s body.  A second later, Kuroo’s eyes are wide open.  Kenma feels vulnerable and ashamed.  He blinks, twisting away from Kuroo.

“Kenma.” Kuroo begins.

“Don’t.”  Kenma says.  He swallows, and it’s painful.  “I’ll be okay.  I just—can we talk later?  I just want to sleep right now.”

Kuroo props himself up on his elbows, taking Kenma’s hand in his own as he looks down at the younger boy.  Kenma looks back up at him, tired. 

Kuroo pulls Kenma back into his arms and nods.  Between tiny butterfly kisses, he whispers, “Thank you for being honest.”

 

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

The walks back with Yamaguchi have been silent this week. It’s not like they usually talk the whole time, but between practice and classes, Yamaguchi normally has something to say about one or the other. Since Tsukishima quit volleyball, though, Yamaguchi has avoided that particular subject like it’s a disease.

Tsukishima doesn’t mind. He’s content to just walk with his friend, watching the sun go down in the horizon and the long shadows that drape themselves over all the right surfaces.

“You look happier these days, Tsukki. Ever since you’ve taken off.” Yamaguchi comments. He studies Tsukishima intently, as if trying to read into Tsukishima’s soul.

“Maybe,” Yamaguchi hesitates when he says this, but in the end he finishes his sentence with : “Maybe volleyball isn’t for you, after all.”

Tsukishima feels his blood freeze over.

-

Tsukishima finds his housemates in a tangle of limbs in the living room when he gets back from school. Kenma is curled up on top of Kuroo, playing one of his video games, the sound on mute. Kuroo has a book over his face, and if his stillness is any indication, the captain is asleep.

Very quietly, Tsukishima makes his way up the stairs to Akiteru’s room and pulls the door shut behind him.

After Yamaguchi had spoken, they’d drifted back into silence. But all the peace and calm inside Tsukishima had been sucked out of him. He’d been simmering the whole way home, the boy’s words repeating themselves in his head.

_“Maybe volleyball isn’t for you, after all.”_

Tsukishima clenches his fist and presses his face into a pillow. What the hell was he supposed to do with that? He was just taking a break, he’d known even when he left that afternoon mid-practice, he’d known that he would be going back. For all the angst it gave him, Tsukishima honestly felt some connection with the sport that nothing else had ever given him. But based on Yamaguchi’s comments, it looked like no one else could even tell.

“What’s the point?” Tsukishima asks himself, flopping over so he’s staring at the ceiling. At this point he’s taken more than a week off from practice already. Daichi hadn’t given him a deadline, but he knew if he stayed away too long, he wouldn’t be going back.

There is a knock on the door.

Tsukishima contemplates ignoring it, and then sighs, sitting up.

“Come in.” he calls to the person, who pushes the door open promptly.

“Did something happen?” Kenma asks, lingering at the doorway. “You usually hang around a bit before going up here.”

Tsukishima studies Kenma for a moment. Even Tsukishima’s own parents can’t tell when something is bothering him. Tsukishima doesn’t blame them for it, he never says anything anyway. But Kenma barely knows Tsukishima, and he knows.

Tsukishima shakes his head. “I’m fine.” he says.

Kenma doesn’t go all fluttery with worry and questions like his mother would, or try to demand answers like his father sometimes does. Instead, he takes a seat at the end of Akiteru’s bed.

“Tsukki?” Kenma doesn’t seem to be aware that he’s using a nickname Tsukishima doesn’t let just anyone use. To be fair, it doesn’t even seem like Kenma realizes that he’s picked up the name. Tsukishima leaves it at that.

“Yeah.” he acknowledges. “What?”

“Thanks again for this morning.” Kenma says. Tsukishima finds himself looking into cat-eyes that pierce through him and make him feel oddly insecure. “If you ever want to talk, Kuroo and I are good listeners.”

Kenma seems to realize how Tsukishima feels and shifts, letting his blond hair sweep across his face, covering his eyes partially.

Tsukishima wonders if it is a thing, people staring at Kenma all the damn time because of his eyes. He feels slightly guilty and raises his hand, brushing the stray locks away from Kenma’s face.

There is still light filtering through the windows. The room is a soft warm orange. There’s maybe a half-hour before the sun goes down completely.

“Kenma,” Tsukishima says. “Would you like to go for a walk?”

-

They take the same road that Tsukishima had carried Kenma through, a little less than a week ago. The atmosphere is very different. It isn’t raining, for one. Another thing is how absolutely comfortable Tsukishima feels in his presence.

Neither of them are the type to say much, and in the absence of Kuroo, Kenma says almost nothing.

They walk around the neighbourhood, watching children play and in his head Tsukishima makes guesses on what’s going on behind the closed doors they pass. Kenma, game shoved into his jacket pocket, watches the sky change colors.

They walk in silence for fifteen minutes, before Tsukishima hears himself asking, “Why do you play volleyball?”

“You’re still asking that?” Kenma glances back from the overgrown bush he is studying. “I don’t know. I just do. Because Kuroo does, and because the team likes it.”

The simple way he says it makes Tsukishima a tiny bit jealous. Kenma lacks devotion to the sport, just as Tsukishima does, but unlike Tsukishima, he doesn’t let it get to him. Kenma plays his best just because he happens to be on the team. Tsukishima just happens to be on the team.

“That’s not much of an answer.” Tsukishima tells the Nekoma player.

Kenma shrugs slightly. “I’m not much of a player.”

Tsukishima starts to argue, then he stops to think about it. Technically, Kenma’s right. He’s not much of a player, though he’s hell of a strategist and observer.

They take a shortcut through one of the public gardens, even though Tsukishima has no idea where they’re going. Kenma sits himself down on one of the benches under an out-of-season sakura tree. Tsukishima doesn’t know if he’s invited to sit down beside the boy, but after a moment’s consideration, he does so anyway.

“Why do you play?” Kenma asks.

Tsukishima hates that question, even though he’s a pro at asking it to other people. “I don’t know. I was wondering if you could tell me.” he says.

Kenma glances at Tsukishima a moment, then looks up at the sky through the cracks in the trees. Tsukishima thinks he isn’t going to answer, so it’s a surprise when the other boy speaks again.

“You play because you’re good.” Kenma says.

“I’m not.” Tsukishima protests, instinctively.

Kenma stops staring up at nothing and redirects his gaze to Tsukishima.

“You will be.” he amends.

Tsukishima thinks about that. He thinks about it for a long time, while Kenma lies with his head against the back of the bench, daydreaming with a laid-back contentment.

“Do you really think that?” Tsukishima asks, when he’s exhausted all possible futures where he’s actually good at volleyball, and can hold on his own against Hinata and Kageyama and the rest of the team. The thought excites him, more than he cares to admit. He’s terrified for even hoping.

“I said it, didn’t I?” Kenma says.

Tsukishima doesn’t think he’s ever felt so much admiration for a single human being before. Kenma, lazy and content, sprawled out in a park on a Thursday evening, so dead certain of Tsukishima’s future.

 _You’re amazing,_ Tsukishima wants to tell him. To take Kenma in a huge hug and thank him for everything. He’s not that kind of person, though. The fact that he’s thinking about doing it, that alone is something new. Anyway, the word ‘amazing’ itself makes Tsukishima cringe. It’s almost as bad as ‘cool’. As if Tsukishima is a ten-year-old girl with a huge crush.

“Kenma.” Tsukishima says, wondering if he can try to force the words from his mouth, looking for synonyms for ‘amazing’ and all he comes up with are empty praises, words cut out for one-night-stands and drunken whispers or sickeningly in-love couples, none of them right for what he wants to say to the setter. But then Kenma turns to him, and Tsukishima knows that he knows, without Tsukishima having to say anything.

So instead, “Let’s go home.” Tsukishima says. “Kuroo is waiting.”

Home and someone waiting, Tsukishima thinks. There’s a surprising warmth in his chest, and it isn’t from the rays of the dying sun.

“Okay.” Kenma says.

Above them, the sky is a fiery red and orange, painted with the finest lines of a brush.

 

-

 

The next day when Tsukishima leaves for class he also leaves them a note telling them he’ll be back late because he’s going to volleyball practice. It takes him five minutes to finish the note, lingering over the words ‘volleyball practice’.

The team greets his arrival with a mixture of enthusiasm and indifference, and after warm-ups, they play two sets back-to-back. Tsukishima isn’t great at it, but he isn’t terrible either, and he wonders if that might be enough.

After all, he can only get better, right?

They’re taking a water break when Tsukishima’s houseguests show up.

“Can we play in the next set?” a voice asks cheerfully.

The whole team spins around, and Tsukishima nearly chokes on his water. Kuroo and Kenma are standing at the entrance of the gym, Kuroo lounging casually against the frame, and Kenma beside him, looking up with the barest trace of interest from his phone.

“Kenma!” Hinata practically shrieks. Kageyama covers his ears and aims a kick in the boy’s direction, but Hinata’s gone, darting towards his friend at high speed.

Tsukishima doesn’t miss the look of alarm on Kenma’s face, and he reaches out to grab Hinata as the boy passes him. Hinata slams straight into the arm Tsukishima has stuck out, and falls flat onto the ground.

“What the hell was that for?” Hinata scowls.

Tsukishima just shrugs. The boy has lost his momentum, though, and Kenma has regained his calm from the sudden almost-attack.

“Can we play?” Kuroo asks again. “We decided to come pick Tsukki up from practice, and we figured it would be nice to come early and play a match.”

Daichi stares at the Nekoma captain, bewildered. Suga holds up a hand, mouthing, ‘wait, what?’

“Did they say they were picking Tsukishima up?” Tanaka asks Noya in a loud whisper.

“Did they just call him ‘Tsukki’?” Noya whispers back.

The still-on-the-floor Hinata is staring at him, mouth gaping open.

“What?” Tsukishima snaps at the orange-haired boy.

The boy doesn’t answer, horrified look on his face, and instead quickly lops away.

That’s when Tsukishima realizes that he’s smiling.

-

It’s six in the evening and tonight is going to be the last night Kenma and Kuroo are in Miyagi.

Kuroo parades around the living room with a towel over his hair, and he’s trying to comb it flat. Tsukishima has come to learn that Kuroo’s hair has a mind of its own, and it doesn’t matter how the older boy tries to flatten it, it still sticks out at that awkward angle between forty-five and ninety degrees.

Not that a ninety-degree angle would have been an improvement. Tsukishima shakes his head at the wayward thought, and watches Kuroo sit on the arm of the couch Kenma is occupying and start combing the smaller boy’s hair instead. Kenma makes a noise of contentment, just like a cat, and it’s hard to feel any resentment towards them when they are so clearly right for each other.

“Let’s go somewhere to eat tonight.” Kuroo declares, turning back to look at Tsukishima. “Just the three of us.”

Kenma shrugs. “Isn’t it always the three of us?”

 

-

They don't end up going anywhere for dinner after all. Kuroo’s become sentimental towards Tsukishima’s house, and it’s pretty much the only memory of Miyagi they have. Kenma easily outvotes exploration in favour of sitting sprawled out on Tsukishima’s couch for another hour with his head tucked against Kuroo’s chest and trying to finish a third video game.

They order takeout and sit in the porch eating it, while Kenma’s adopted cat purrs and skulks around the boy’s legs. Kenma bends down to plant a shy but certain kiss onto the cat’s head. “Thank you.” he murmurs, feeding strings of noodles to the cat, who paws at it like it is twine, not food.

Kuroo waves a hand indulgently towards the vast, unexplored space before them, to all the darkness of the skies and the twinkling specks of stars. “We came here on holiday and to play volleyball and Kenma’s only played in one match and he’s barely seen any of your town.”

“I’ve finished three video games though.” Kenma says, as though that’s what matters. To Kenma, that’s probably what does matter. Yet, it doesn’t stop him from playing matches, from doing things, from being fucking incredible and careless and kind all at the same time.

Tsukishima finds himself laughing. As he watches Kenma dunk the rest of his noodles over the cat’s head, and Kuroo smile indulgently at the boy, he decides maybe it’s time to stop overthinking everything and just do.

“I’m going to do it.” Tsukishima says determinedly, startling both Nekoma players. They turn to look at Tsukishima, patient, waiting. Under their twin gazes, Tsukishima feels powerful, invincible, and sure.

“I’m going to play volleyball.” he tells them.

-

_Six months later, **Tokyo**_

Tsukishima tugs awkwardly at the bag he’s carrying, cap pulled low over his head as if he’s afraid to be recognized. Double-checking the address on his phone, he steps up into the driveway and makes his way towards the front door.

The cap is knocked askew by a plant hanging from the doorway, and Tsukishima catches it and just drops it into his bag. He takes a deep breath and rings the doorbell.

He hears the doorbell echo throughout the house, and someone scrambling for the door. A familiar voice calls out a muffled shout, and the door opens.

“Hey.” Kuroo says, grinning widely.

“Hi.” Tsukishima looks the boy up and down, noting everything that’s changed about him, and everything that has stayed the same. It’s been a busy half-a-year, and Nekoma and Karasuno haven’t played any matches, practice or official, ever since that one game they had with Kuroo and Kenma in Miyagi. Tsukishima has played plenty of other games though, and since that night six months ago when Tsukishima decided that he was going to try, volleyball has felt good in a way it never had before.

“Are you sure this is fine?” Tsukishima asks again, as if he hadn’t asked the same question every other day for the past month.

Kuroo waves his question away and grabs Tsukishima’s bag out of his hand. “It’s fine. Kenma’s over all the time. One more isn’t going to make a difference to my parents.”

“Where is Kenma?” Tsukishima asks.

A door in an upstairs room opens and closes. Kenma appears at the top of the stairs, and Tsukishima feels a surge of affection rush through him. Kenma wanders down and then smiles up Tsukishima.

“I’ve been watching your games.” Kenma says, by way of greeting. “You’ve improved a lot.”

Kuroo laughs, ruffling Kenma’s hair. “He’s happy to see you, take my word for it.”

Tsukishima smiles. “I can tell.”

“We’ve missed you.” Kuroo says.

“Yeah.” Tsukishima says, words stuck in his throat. “I’ve missed you guys too.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How was it? I've got so many other ideas for this pairing/ trio now. Going to write Kuroo/Kenma/Tsukki incessantly until it becomes a thing :D


End file.
